


The path of desires- An Ishvalan folktale

by Persistent_Worldsaver



Category: FMA - Fandom, FMA:B, Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Child goes on adventure? Check, Gen, I practically wrote an entire children's book, Ishbalan Character(s) | Ishvalan Character(s), Ishvalan Culture, Scar, because this story will have important connections to another work centered around him, folktale, i'm tagging, in 2 weeks. Can you believe, story teaches good morals? Check
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28339155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persistent_Worldsaver/pseuds/Persistent_Worldsaver
Summary: A child is looking for something important. She hopes to find it at the end of a path.Wether three spirits will let her reach it depends on her own choices.
Relationships: Family - Relationship, Humans & spirits
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	The path of desires- An Ishvalan folktale

  
  
  
  


A long time ago, there was a child who lived on this land.

She was walking in the desert, looking for the path of desires.

The adults would always warn her to never go close. Many people have gotten lost to it, and if you were ever to see its shimmering light at the horizon, never to follow it.

She had been walking at the edge of the village with a heavy mind, when a gleam struck her eyes.  
She was alone, carrying her satchel with a piece of flatbread and water, some dried dates and a small container of meat soup, when she saw its light at the horizon.

The path of desires is dangerous, they would admonish children. No one was careful enough to avoid the malevolent spirits resting along it, no one was cunning enough to trick their way past them. Whatever you wished to find at the end, nothing was worth the risk. Hoping to steer them away, they would recount tales of all the greedy people who had sought it out and never returned.  
One had done it for riches, and was found by xingese tradesmen, his body burnt by his excessive adornments of jewelry.  
Another had done it for knowledge of his beaten, escaped wife's whereabouts, and received the information carved into his heart.  
A third one never revealed his desire, but was marked by his attempt at playing god.  
He was the most horrifying body they ever came across. Only a crawling white mass of distorted features, they said, as if his body had been turned to clay and reshaped by an uncaring child.  
Don't be reckless, children. If they ever heard the wind whispering promises of finding what they most desired, if it told them to walk down the road to the very end;  
never listen to it.

The child started walking towards the light.

It wasn't long, before she met with a spirit. It had the shape of the dark-blue desert bird, who would steal your shimmering coins and trinkets if you didn't hide them well enough, observing quietly as the child approached.

"Hello, little one."

The child answered politely: "Hello, desert spirit."

"Now, I've met with many humans who have walked this path before you, but never such a small one. What reason do you have for such a hard excursion?"

"There's something at the end of this path that I need." She looked down at her feet for a moment, before looking back at the spirit.  
"My little brother is sick, and no one's been able to help him."

"One doctor says the illness came from Drachma, and that only their medicine could help against the ravaging fever.  
A second saw it familiar to the kretanese malnutrition, and suggested that my brother ate more seeds and oils from Kreta.  
A third one recognized it as a xerxian plague strain, one that whispering voices saw as the reason for the kingdom's sudden demise. And saying that, no more outsiders were willing to aid a poor Ishvalan family."

"The last doctor who came only looked at him, before he took our mother aside and told her-  
‘Sister, I'm sorry, but the only thing anyone can do is pray to Ishvala that he will be gently received.’ "

The bird made a little bowing motion during the retelling, and when she was done hoped one step closer.

"I see. But was there really no medicine or cure that helped him? You seem to have a lot of trade with other countries, was there no one that sold cures from each land?"

"There are, but all the doctor's suggested were far too expensive. The drachman fever drops would cost our parents four months of their trade work. The kretanese diet includes ingredients that can't be grown here, and they price it thereafter. And only emperors could pay the price to receive any valuable information about Xerxes, especially when it comes to their revered medicine. We've had to buy the cheaper alternatives to everything, like always. But they're not enough."

"Money really is a burden to you humans, isn't it? Is that why you came? To claim the riches here?"  
Suddenly, the sand around it started to move.  
A pile of gold, silver and coins started to spring up, and it kept growing. Rubies, smaragds, opals and blackest onyx, ornate rings, bracelets and brooches with beautiful carvings of leaves and petals, soft and strikingly colored clothes in darkest of purples, reds and black made of the highest quality silk, every beautiful and precious item you could imagine was stacked in front of her.

The bird's voice changed now, from a gentle, softspoken tone to a more hollow, echoing sound.  
"With this, wouldn't you be able to save your brother? Money can buy a better doctor, better medicine, isn't that true? You can't trust an uncaring person who has no interest in saving a poor child, without receiving what he feels is an appropriate pay, don't you agree?  
Why not stop walking here, and simply return with as many riches you can carry, keeping your family safe from every threat that poverty presents?  
The saviour of not only your brother, but everyone's future."

The child was staring agape, mesmerized by all the beauty and tempting promises it gave. Like so many other children, she'd had dreams of better lives. One where she could be the helper more often than the receiver, where she didn't have to write in her notebooks so tightly and small that it almost became illegible to save on the paper; for when their aunt needed to buy new pots and pans after wearing her old ones into brittle shells, and for all the times she insisted on keeping her ragged clothing against her mother's wishes, so she wouldn't have to worry about using their ever-shrinking amount of savings.

Savings that had paid so many doctors. So many medicines.

She looked at the pile for a little longer. Then she started to walk away.  
As she passed its side, the bird asked:  
"What's this? Isn't it enough? Would you like more, so that even your descendants could live carefree?"  
The child paused for a while.  
"I would love the security all those riches could give. They give a greater possibility for a happy, healthy life."  
She continued:  
"But they're not a guarantee. Not even an emperor could pay enough money to be saved from an incurable disease. And if that is what's befallen my brother, then these riches would be worthless."

With that, she continued on the path of desires.

The bird looked after her, and now it's voice had returned to the soft tone:  
"It is true. You made a wise decision, little one."

The child kept walking in the desert. After some time, she stood before another spirit.  
This one had the shape of the black bird, intelligent enough to play tricks and games with humans. People would joke that if you didn't have a friend to play a board game with, you just had to wait for a black bird to take its place.  
Its big, sharp beak pointed towards the child, waiting for her to come closer.

"Hello, little one."

"Hello, desert spirit."

"I heard from my friend. You sure are brave to travel this path for your brother's sake."

"Thank you. But I would be lying to say I did so fearlessly."

"It's no wonder. You humans have always feared the unknown. That's why you insist on gathering as much knowledge as possible."  
It peered at the child with a mischievous gleam.  
"But you sure are stingy when it comes to sharing it with each other."  
She weighed on her heels as she answered the spirit.  
"I've never understood that myself. Ishvalans have always been happy to teach anyone willing to ask, but many outsiders refuse to. It's almost as if they think it's something finite being taken away."  
She stopped rocking.  
"Each visiting doctor I asked would never say more than necessary.  
The first one claimed that we wouldn't understand anything, no matter how much he explained.  
The second one complained that he would be left without time to work if he answered every single question asked.  
The third one said it was a grave crime to share such knowledge to outsiders, and that his emperor would punish him if he ever did so.  
And I don't understand. Why hide away such information? What harm could it do?"

The bird tilted its head.  
"But surely you must've had ishvalan doctors that were willing to explain? Why did you turn to outsiders in the first place?"

The child looked away.  
"Hearing a doctor say 'I don't know' is a death sentence. I've learned as much by now. Maybe that's why so many insisted on trying to turn an unknown disease into one they knew."

She spoke quietly now.  
"The very first doctor was a friend of ours. And when asked what could be done for my little brother, he in turn could only say one thing.  
'I don't know.' "  
She turned back to the spirit.  
"When we asked a second doctor, he said the same. A third, a fourth, and they all said the same. 'I don't know. I don't know.' "

The child was quiet now.  
"I wish I knew. There have been many times I've thought that during all this time: I wish I knew."  
She spoke with sorrow in her voice.  
"I wish I knew what illness struck my brother. That I knew how to lessen his pain during the nights when he can't sleep. I wish I knew how to save him."

The bird began clawing in the sand, and a stone started to show through.  
"Knowledge, truly. It's something of great importance in this world, isn't it? If you only knew more, wouldn't life be so much easier?"

As a sudden gust of wind passed, it unearthed several inscripted stone plates around them. The child had only seen anything like them in ancient ruins. And as the wind kept blowing, the child noticed it now carried more than sand: pages of paper and leather blew by with it, some written with letters she recognized and others filled with characters she'd never seen before; some old and brittle, others with barely dried writing.  
The wind increased its strength, and she could hear a different voice whispering now; about information that has been lost to man but not to them, secrets that had died but would live with her. Whispered words and tales never told, stories passed down in hushed tones.

The spirit spoke in a colder tone now, it's kindness gone.  
"If you possessed the knowledge from every human that has walked this earth, how could anything be unknown? If you gathered it all, how could you fail to save your brother? There would be nothing to fear then, wasn’t it so?  
All this information could be yours, and you would never be left without answers again."

The child looked reverently at the varied collections of human knowledge. She had often been praised for her studious nature, and she always felt joy when learning something new.  
She’d tried using it to the best of her ability when her brother fell ill.

She'd been trying to find an answer during all this time. In all the books she had ever read and all the ones she hadn't; books from the smallest libraries in someone's house to the Ishvalan monks' grand collections.  
She had asked anyone that would answer her and some that wouldn't; from teachers, merchants, to writers and monks.  
But none of them could tell her the cause, none could give an explanation, a name or most importantly, a cure.

She'd been searching for knowledge to save her brother. But it had become a heavy burden.

So many diseases that had no salvation. So much death that couldn’t be avoided.  
If this one was constricted, you’d die. If another one befell you, there would be a long time suffering before death.  
As she’d finished reading everything and asking everyone, she had come to a realisation.

And as she looked at the piles of stones and paper, the pinnacle of humanity, she walked away.

When she passed its side, the bird asked:  
“What’s this? Isn’t it enough for you? Didn’t you treasure the sharing of knowledge? Weren’t you desperate to gain it?”

The child stopped for a moment.  
“To have knowledge is incredible. It helps you understand the word, it allows you to save people. I would love to learn more from long gone humans. I would be overjoyed to find salvation.  
But it’s arrogant to believe we know everything about the world. And I don’t know if I’ll find what I'm looking for in the past.

I told you that many doctors answered us with ‘I don’t know.’ Many of the books I read did the same. There’s still so much for us to learn. And one of those things is that knowledge alone isn’t salvation. If the cure could only be found in the most remote of places, that knowledge would do me no good. If that knowledge could only tell me to abandon hope, I'd rather persist without it."  
The child straightened her back.  
"If I can find his salvation at the end of this road, it'll be worth all my efforts."

And with that, the child kept walking the path of desires.

The spirit looked after her for a long time. It's warm tone returned when it spoke:  
"It is true, little one. I hope you keep walking this path, until the very end."

After walking for hours under the burning sun, she could see an oasis below the sand dune she'd been climbing. It was still far away, but the child felt the hunger clawing in her stomach. She'd been trying to save her meal for as long as possible, only eating a date every half hour to lessen the pain. But now she couldn't walk any longer, so she sat down, trying to shield herself against the sandy wind as best she could with her sister's big sash. She thanked her parents for the meal, and started eating the bread, slowly and in small pieces, dipping a piece in her soup every now and then. Despite the harsh wind and heat, despite the sad reason for her journey, she felt a moment of true joy as she savoured her mother's cooking: the familiar flavors that felt like a hug, and the soft, chewy texture of the bread that her father made every day. She reminisced about the big clay oven that filled the house with the smell of baking bread, and the pots simmering on the fire every morning when she woke up. Her brother would braid her hair while she ate, and her sister would play with the younger one before school.  
They would always walk together, shout their greetings to the old man selling tea and the young woman selling spices. And they always laughed and waved back, telling them to have a good day at school and pass by for a chat later.  
As they returned from the red-clayed building, with it's kind teachers and lively children, they would come home to soft embraces and caring words.  
When night fell, there would be visits. Aunts, uncles, cousins and friends. They would all gather around the fire, drinking tea and talking about their day.  
Children playing, adults joking, singing and poems, stories and tales.  
And as they all went to sleep, the child would do so with a heart filled with love.

When the child was done with her meal, she wiped her tears and packed her things. She still had a path to walk. She still had something far too important to lose.

Before long, she faced the third spirit.

This spirit didn't face her. It only looked forward, towards the oasis that still lied far ahead.

The brown-feathered shape it had wasn't common around human settlements. The sight of one was said to either bring great fortune, or grave misfortune.

When it finally turned to the child, the vulture's red eyes pierced her own.

It spoke to the child with a coarse voice.

"You sure are a persistent soul. Twice you've been offered immeasurable gifts, and twice you've turned them down. With what conviction do you keep pushing forward? What do you expect to find at the end of this path?"

The child was quiet.

The spirit talked.

"You already know what I can offer. When humans won't be satisfied by worldly things, they seek the godly ones. I don't know why, and I don't care to ask. But you should understand it in your heart. No human being can save your brother now. Nothing you could possibly do will help him survive. Only one being has the power to decide over life and death in this world."

The spirit craned its neck towards the child.  
"And you know what being that is. If your dear god won't help you from their realm, what other choice do you have but embody them in this?"

The child looked away. If there really was no more hope for her brother, what else could she do? Why should she continue down this path, when there was nothing at the end of it?

Who wouldn’t be tempted by the powers of god? You alone, presiding over everything, over everyone.  
Not bound to anyone.

Who would want the life of a god?

The child returned a firm gaze as she answered the spirit.  
"Why would I want something like that?“

It showed the slightest hint of surprise.  
"As I said, I haven't cared to ask. But if I were to guess, it's that so many humans are unhappy. Unhappy with a life they wish to leave behind. They might want power, or they might want the impossible. Whatever it is, they want to give up themselves for it.”

_"I_ don't want that.”

The vulture inched its neck closer. It did something it had never done before.

It wondered.  
“And why wouldn’t you?”

The child took a deep breath.  
“If I were to become a God, I would lose humanity. I would lose my family and their companionship. I would lose hugs and sweet water, the joy of learning something new and greeting an old friend. The moments of calm sleep; the moments of roaring laughter. And I would never feel the love given to me from a simple soup and a piece of bread again.  
I don't wish to be a god. I just wish to live. I wish for my brother to live."

The vulture simply stared at her.

After a long time, it finally spoke:  
"You humans always have the strangest of wants. You find meaning in the smallest of things. But you are right, little one. The life of a god is far too lonely."

With that, it flapped its wings and flew away.

The child let out a shaky breath, and kept walking the path of desires.

She hadn’t walked for long, before she felt something strange.  
The oasis still lied far ahead, but in the dried-out ground before her, she saw them.

Small, dark-green plants, that were barely visible from her height.  
They looked as if they were hanging on to dear life with all their might.

She turned towards the lush oasis, trying to figure out why she felt so unsure, and realised that the whispering voice was gone. There was no faint advice to keep walking, no more guidance as to where she should go. There was no more calling to reach the end of the road.

She looked down at the plants again. There were two thin leaves left, surrounded by brittle dead stalks.  
The child wondered what she should do.

Then she bent down, and picked one.  
As she was to turn around, she hesitated.

She stood above the remaining leaf. Then she picked it too.

She decided to lay them in the empty soup-container, to make sure they were kept safe. She cleaned it out the best she could, and carefully placed both leaves inside.

She looked towards the oasis one last time.  
And with that, she began her long walk home.

A faint voice would guide her.

She was met with people calling her name. When she reached the village, her mother greeted her with an embrace. Among all the worried voices and questions, hers stood out:

“My little child, where have you been? All day gone, and then you return from the desert? You know how dangerous that is, you could have been lost!”

“I know. I’m sorry, mother. But it was important.”  
She pulled away slightly to open her satchel, excited to show her.

“I went to find help for brother.”

As she carefully opened the container, she was surprised at the sight: the dried, green leaves had turned into beautiful, brown petals with black swirls.

She picked one up and looked at it, front and back. And for a moment, she felt as she could see birds flying by in the pattern.

She turned back to her mother and said:  
“I’m going to save him.”

When they reached home, her family spilled out. Everyone doting, everyone worrying and asking where she’d been, what had happened. She tried to hold back inexplicable tears, and as her mother asked them to first let her talk to her brother, they let her pass.

When she entered the room, she saw him the same way she had so many times before.

She kneeled beside his bed, and started talking.  
“Little brother, I’ve done something incredible. I know it was reckless, but I found the path of desires. I reached the end of it. And I hope I found what I most desired.”

She picked up the petal she’d been cradling so carefully since she got home.  
“Something that would save you.”

Her little brother had listened, she knew.

“Mother was so worried, she almost cried when she heard what I’d done. I know that they’ve forbidden us, but I don’t care.”

She showed him the petal.  
“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it? But you're going to eat it, so be ready. You’ll be the first one to have this cure, so you have to tell everyone what it tastes like.”

She hesitated for a moment, unsure as to how she should use it. Should she boil it in water? Should she dry it out and turn it into powder? She knew medicine wasn’t that easily made, and this one only had one chance to turn out right. She couldn’t risk failing.

One last time in her life, she felt the wind blow past her ear. And she listened.

She placed the petal in his mouth, where it melted away. And then, she waited.

As she did, the rest of the family entered too. They all watched over him, silently.

It wasn’t long, but it had felt like an eternity.

When her little brother opened his eyes for the first time in days, she felt tears running down her cheeks.

He turned to her with a smile.  
“Sister, it tasted like honey.”

She tried to keep back her sobbing.  
“That’s good. All those other medicines tasted terrible, didn’t they?”

He managed to shake his head.  
“...Sister...weren’t you scared?...No one else has done it before...But you did it...”

She smiled reassuringly.

“ I would walk down that path a million times for you.”

He returned a weak smile. And with that, he fell into heavy sleep.

After a night of worried wake, her brother could get up without help. By midday, the last sensation of pain was gone. By sunset, he could play with his cousins and siblings again.

By night, the child buried the second petal in the garden.

She had listened to the wind, but asked one of her aunts to help her plant it anyway. She wanted to make sure the soil was right, that it wasn't too exposed to the sun, that it would survive.

The plant grew steadily, just like her brother. And as its beautiful flowers bloomed for the first time, the child was content.  
No one would ever die by an unknown disease again.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You know what's absolutely imperative to many cultures in the world? The kind of stories they tell. And when I thought of Ishval, I wanted something that reflected their values.  
> I read a book by a lebanese man that talked about hakawati, a storyteller, and how important he felt it was to his culture. I simply started writing this, and decided it was important in Ishval too, since it's obviously inspired by the middle east.  
> This folktale is part of a larger(so much larger) story I'm writing where it actually acknowledges how much Scar Was Right and Please Give the Man a Hug, but who knows when it's done. Hopefully you'll enjoy this one in the meantime.


End file.
